


The Cardinal Rules

by kuro49



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The earliest memory Newt has of the Glade, that isn’t fear, is Alby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cardinal Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atomeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomeek/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I hate your slang, so, I am disregarding it for the sake of wall! ~~sex~~ handjob instead.

Like their names, set in stone, there are three cardinal rules in the Glade.

That, that’s not up for debate.

 

He is moving fast, he is also going up.

There is a sinking feeling in his gut, the building of pressure inside his ears, the machinery rumbling around him as it takes him up, and up. He holds his breath when it finally stutters to a stop, gears screeching to a halt.

And he only remembers to breathe out when the sun hits his skin.

The first thing he sees are the shadows of these boys, the first thing he registers is a hand being held out to him, a hand that drags him to his feet, and one that keeps him steady when all his knees want is to give up beneath him.

The earliest memory he has of the Glade, that isn’t fear, is Alby.

 

The second is the twist of his name resounding in the emptiness of what remains of his head. Newt, Newt, _Newt_ , and it fills his head like Alby’s hand fitting into his own as he tugs him to his feet. It feels like a gift, to remember this one thing.

But if that’s a gift from the Creators, then this, well.

This can be his big bloody _fuck you_ right back at the ones that’ve put them here when he drives Alby back into the wall with a soft laugh that escapes between his teeth.

 

The first time he ran, he feels something other than despair.

And the first time he jumped, he feels relief.

 

He kisses his mouth open, fingers working at the belt then button of Alby’s jeans, the edge of his nail catching against the teeth of the zipper.

“We’re gonna get _caught_.” Alby warns, between one kiss and the next.

“Growing boys and all, they can bloody deal with it if they catch us with our pants down.” Newt replies, planting a wet one if just because he can, barely pulling back with a grin on his face.

And Alby can draw the line on many things, but this is not one he can say _no_ to when he’s already following the tilt of Newt’s mouth, meeting him somewhere in the middle, colliding with lips and tongue, teeth and hands.

So he settles with clenching his fingers into the worn white shirt that hangs off of Newt’s frame, and tells him this.

“I can live with that.”

Newt’s grin just stretches wider across his face when he’s drawn deeper into another kiss.

 

When Minho hits the edge of the Maze, maps it all out for himself so there’s no mistake in every way he runs, he tells Alby. Alby tells no one, and asks that Minho keep it to himself, if just for a little while longer.

If just so he doesn’t have to watch Newt jump a second time.

 

Like their names, set in stone, there are three cardinal rules in the Glade.

_Do your part._ Alby tells him as he sits him down at the edge of the small garden, just a short distance from the rest of their rag-tag group of boys. _Never harm another Glader_. Alby is not stern when he says this, but he is no gentle soul. He gives him that talk of needing trust, and Newt in turn doesn’t ask him about anything that came before these rules.

_And most importantly, never go beyond those walls._

The stretch of his mind is a blank sheet of paper going for miles and miles, the stretch of his fingers only reaches so far. He touches a hand to the crook of Alby’s arm, hesitates for a single moment before he closes that distance too.

“Okay.”

Newt tells him, and he doesn’t need to repeat it a second time.

 

He takes them both in hand, palms wet with just spit and precome to ease the friction that builds and builds. Alby’s soft pants fill the space between them, and it’s not much with Newt pressing him harder against the wall. The feel of concrete beneath his back.

The sun turns his blond hair into gold, the sun burns the image deep inside Alby’s head.

And what a lovely thing this is, to keep in the places between that first month and all those following ones until he is jumping into the Box and pulling a boy to his feet that can barely stand without leaning heavily into his side.

He watches him fuck into his fist, the slide of his cock against his, the heat of his palm, and he watches him from beneath his lashes, mouth parted, murmuring Alby, Alby, _Alby_ like that’s the only thing he will remember come the Door opens.

 

When he becomes a Runner, Alby doesn’t say anything, just smiles that faint, barely there, smile of his and watches him go beyond those walls. Hears the thump of Newt’s footsteps disappear around the corner, hears the thump of his heart in his chest in place of that.

The light has only just broken across the sky, blues breaking apart the darkness that has the wind howling between the trees in the forest. He turns around, and begins the tasks for another morning spent in the same damn Maze.

 

He comes with his name falling off the flat of Newt’s tongue, he comes with his eyes shut against the sun overhead and the heat of Newt’s body pressed so close. His second in command follows with a soft noise that finally escapes from the confines of his chest, a noise that Alby swallows down with another kiss.

When a branch snaps somewhere just ways off from where they are, Newt stiffens.

“I’m not going to say a single thing if Alby doesn’t pull rank, and Newt doesn’t turn around.” Minho’s voice carries from just the edge of the trees, Newt stays still, and Alby tries his hardest not to laugh into the tuft of blond hair ducking down those few inches of difference between them.

Not that it hides the way Newt’s ears burn bright red all the way to the tips.

“I thought you said they could deal.”

Newt just buries his face deeper into the crook of Alby’s shoulders.

 

What goes unsaid is that Alby’s broken all three rules before he can make them.

There’s no _do your part_ when there’s only you. There’s no _never harm another Glader_ when George is the first one stung and he’s got his hands around your throat and squeezing tighter still.

And why would there be anything like a warning to _never to go beyond those walls_ when there is just you taking that very first step beyond the Door.

 

(Alby’s earliest memory will never be Newt, but he can make his last one him.

He can also make all the ones in between just the ones of him and Newt.)

 

Like their names, set in stone, Alby stands by each rule.

As the second in command, Newt is just glad that Alby is standing, still.

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
